


I Win

by KrystalMoon



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrystalMoon/pseuds/KrystalMoon
Summary: Short story taking place post-movie once the kingdoms have combined. Bog King and Marianne have married and the new castle is done. A teasing spar can lead to... Other things. Anything to win, right?
Relationships: Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	I Win

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so... This is my first smut fic so. The goal was to be more fluffy anyway. Don’t expect a whole lot. ^-^  
> Also it’s vanilla-y.

The darkness of the moonless night spread across the already pitch black Dark Forest, loud chirping and various other noises of cicadas and bugs screaming and singing their mating calls into the pleasantly warm and soft humidity. Humongous trees stretched high into the sky, spreading light blocking limbs around so not even starlight could pass.

The only light that seemed to exist was from a dry, rotted-out tree trunk on the border to a flower filled meadow. It was their new castle, since the old one had collapsed into the abyss. This one had balconies made out of mushrooms which many-a-goblin seemed to be utilizing one way or another. The castle’s entrance had a new skull, supported this time with decorative fairy-like columns, two separate bridges reaching across the mote of running water with different designs.

The castle itself was enormous, and looked as if two different designers had a play in making it.

In truth, that is precisely what happened. The two designers in question were currently sparring in the expansive, and otherwise vacant throne room.

One such designer was the Bog King; a very tall, thin bodied fairy/goblin hybrid with dragonfly wings and natural segmented plate armor. He had a cruel, angular face. Everything about this fae was cruel and angular, actually. From his pinecone-like leafy scalp, down to his clawed feet, he looked like an evil warlord whose middle name was misery.

Twirling his massive staff skillfully, he deflected blows easily from his adversary. His newly wedded-wife, as a matter of fact, who wielded an artfully forged and tempered arming sword with one hand, her other held out for balance and quick return for two-handed parrying.

His fairy wife, Marianne, was a stark contrast to himself. Young, soft looking, and short, at first glance she seemed the typical damsel in distress-type with big, warm brown eyes, long fragile-looking pointed ears with tips the color of a soft, meadow-green, and a tiny curvy figure. Even her purple emperor butterfly wings looked delicate. But she was anything but. Her brown hair was dyed to a black, her eye shadow was a deep purple, her lips matching. Her blunt, white teeth were bared in concentration as she tried desperately to take a swing at Bog.

He only laughed at her, flickering his dragonfly wings out teasingly as he moved his hips out of the way with ease. He was flexible and had reach and power. Marianne hated her disadvantages and over compensated with rough, reckless, powerful swings. But she was surprisingly agile and adjusted to parrying swiftly, flipping around or over his low sweeping swings. The only blows she ever got on him were kicks from her hardened-petal boots, which never felt more than a push to him.

He flashed his sharp teeth in a malicious grin as she backed away for another predictable swing in using her whole body for speed and force.

“You lack finesse,” he quipped critically in a sing-songy voice, amusedly smacking away another blow. “You’re usin’ too much energy.”

“Ha! Well that makes two of us!” she replied in a snarky tone, a coy grin on her face.

“How do  _ I  _ lack finesse?” he laughed. “So far it looks like I’m winning.”

“I'm talking about in bed, you clumsy oaf!” she sniped wickedly. He hesitated in his swing, his grin sliding right off his face. Good, she got to him. “If you wielded your staff as well as your actual staff, you’d probably last longer.”

“Oh-ho- _ ho _ ! Goin’ for low blows, huh?” he snorted and swung low. “Two can play at that game!”

He spun, focusing mainly on low swings and parrying, forcing Marianne to focus on her footing carefully. He sped up, then caught her off guard by swinging in his foot in the opposite direction. Her resulting footing was wide.

“I seem to recall someone shamelessly moaning from my attention when I woke them up this morning,” he wiggled his wings teasingly at her again as she brought her sword down to make contact with his head. He knocked her sword out of her hand easily, swinging his staff outwards in a circle. He threw her off her groove, and he relished in the resulting crimson tint to her face. He pointed his staff tip at her, a triumphant smirk on his face. “I win, love.”

“That’s not fair,” Marianne seethed. “You played dirty.”

“I did noh,” Bog replied with a laugh. _ “This _ is playin’ dirty.”

With an aggressive pounce, he shoved his staff across her chest and pinned her against the floor. He laughed as she struggled against him, trying to twist to throw him off her. He wasn’t pushing down hard, so he didn’t hurt her, so she broke free easily. She glared up at him, kicking his staff out of his grip. He threw up his hands and chuckled.

Marianne placed her hands on her hips and gave her husband a half-frown. Something crossed her mind and seemed to sadden her. She sighed and looked away, her shoulders slouching forward.

“Marianne?” Bog tilted his head at her.

“No matter how much I work on it, I can’t seem to…” She shook her head. “I hate being powerless…”

“You’re not powerless,” he responded softly, walking up to her, crouching so he could be more level with her. Marianne looked up at Bog’s blue eyes and blinked up at him.

“But I can’t seem to win against you…”

“Of course not, tough girl,” he said, smiling adoringly at her. “I have too much goblin in me.”

“I almost beat you that first time we fought.”

“We were pretty evenly matched. But that was because you caught me by surprise,” he chuckled and poked her nose with a claw then gestured widely. “I know you pretty well now. Your habits, your retaliations, and your weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” she asked as if the word disgusted her. “I don’t have any-.”

He grabbed her and restrained her against him briefly, poking at her sides until she squealed in uncontrollable laughter.

“No weaknesses, huh?” he repeated, letting her go so she could dust herself off and control her giggling.

“That’s not fair either,” she said breathlessly.

“It  _ is _ fair. You  _ should _ use  _ any  _ advantage you have against your opponent,” he mentioned, shrugging his pauldrons.

Marianne frowned then considered her advantages on Bog. He really was playing very dirty, but she wasn’t above playing dirty either. She did have one rather dangerous advantage over him. Bog frowned at her as a devilish grin spread across her face.

“How about you use your advantages on me in the bedroom, then, tough guy,” she said slyly.

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort, a smirk forming. Marianne turned around and opened her wings, fluttering them a bit before taking off. She didn’t have to look back behind her to see if he was following, she could hear the soft “shhh” of his dragonfly wings vibrating against the air.

Once the royal bedroom doors were shut, they continued their spar, though in a different way.

Marianne threw her clothes off herself as she fluttered around Bog, staying just outside of his reach, teasing him gently. He followed after her dodging a flying boot meticulously snatching a hold of her ankle. He pinned her against the bed, but she stuck a foot up against his chest to stop him.

“Nuh-uh, Bog,” she smirked. “Admit I won.”

“I admit to nothing,” he murmured.

“Then you get none.”

He looked at her in amused frustration, exhaling through his long pointy nose with a smirk.

“Alright then. Your loss, tough girl.”

“But-!” Marianne sat up and glared at him. “Wait a minute! What do you mean  _ my  _ loss?!”

“I’m not the only one who loses that battle,” he said gently, his smirk turning cruel, his eyes calculating.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re the one blushing,” he grinned. Then he shrugged. “Think you’re the only one that can tease, Marianne?”

Her heart hammered in her ears hearing his voice and feeling it through her foot. She lowered it and bit her lip.

“It’s not nice to tease,” she said quietly, looking away.

He exhaled through his nose and adjusted himself so they laid side by side. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his face, pressing it up to his cheek. She looked over at him and complied, turning so she could bring her other hand to his other cheek. Caressing his prominent cheekbones, where the skin there went from silky smooth to rough, his heated blue eyes looking into hers. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they both were heavy romantics. But it was the small gestures that really stood out to them. The looks, the touches, and the kisses, more than the grand gestures. He closed his eyes and seemed to melt into her touch, kissing her wrist before breathing in her scent. Her heart fluttered in response.

“Marianne,” Bog whispered quietly. He leaned forward and smiled at her, tilting his head in her direction. “You win.”

She melted into him immediately.

The hot and heavy need had left them a few moon cycles ago. Every now and again, there was a hormonal rush that would drive them both crazy, but today was not one of those times. This time, they took it slowly. Kissing each other softly, their hands exploring dragging in familiar erogenous zones they knew only so well now. Gently tending to the flames between them rather than throwing a ton of dry leaves to make it explode quickly and deescalate just as fast. His sharp claws dug into her lower back, making her arch her back inward a bit and she let out a gasping hiss of surprise breaking away from her attention to his lips. He pressed the side of his face to her own, holding her tightly to him, caressing her wherever his rough hands could reach. Her hair, her back, her shoulders.

She returned a hand to his face to press it against hers more securely. A gentle sigh escaped his lips, his breath hot against her ear. She kissed his cheek, then guided his chin up with her thumb, exposing his neck. She kissed him there, then nipped him. His breathing hitched.

He moved her then, pushing her hand down onto the bed, tucking a thin armored knee between her legs as he moved, guiding her open. She could feel his heated expanse but she never looked down. Shyness, perhaps. Even after all this time, when no secrets were kept between them anymore, it seemed embarrassing to enjoy even one little look. He pulled her knees up and rested his rough hands on them then stopped moving altogether. Marianne felt her cheeks burn.

“Marianne,” Bog murmured, his voice thick and accented. She looked up at him. Their eyes met then, and he held her gaze there, a comforting smile on his face. “You don’t have to keep looking away, you know.”

“I…”

He ran his thumbs in circles gently against her knee, titling his head. There was a look on his face that she only got to see sometimes. It was the same look he gave her when she had asked if he was ok after falling into the abyss and miraculously surviving.

Would they always be this shy and nervous around one another? Perhaps. They both had trauma from previous relationships they were still healing from, Bog’s a little more deep seated, to be fair, than her own, Marianne reasoned.

She looked down to his neck, it was tense, the sinewy muscles showing against the skin, his naturally armored chest expanding in a way that was a little more noticeable than usual. His thin abdomen, segmented by plate armor. There was one plate that seemed to have moved out of the way. Whatever she had been expecting based on how it felt was nothing to what she saw.

Their first time had hurt and apparently for good reason. His was pointed, curving upward, fleshy but segmented. Ribbed flesh continued along its length, even above it where the slit between his plates were.

“... You look scared…?” Bog probed questioningly.

“No I…”

They were both nervous, and Marianne knew why all of a sudden.

Before, it was just lustfull. They’d only take each other whenever they felt the need to. They loved each other, for sure, but the act just seemed like a different part of their relationship. Now, it was as if they were trying to feel out their connection through this activity, too.

“Bog,” she whispered. His segmented pauldrons flexed in response, clicking, his wings rattling behind him. “How sensitive is it, actually?”

She reached out and touched it tentatively, sitting up onto one elbow.

His fingers flinched immediately, claws digging into her knees, and a groan escaped his lips.

“Very sensitive…”

She gently ran her fingers over the soft appendage, at first only to feel it’s texture, but then because she noticed Bog twitching uncontrollably whenever she made a pass against the tip.

“Marianne,” he moaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Well, good. Now you know how you make me feel.”

She had meant that more as a retort more than an admission, but it was true. His length always hit the right places all at once.

She stopped her attention on his warm length and grabbed his wrists, tugging them towards her. He let go of her knees and leaned forward to kiss her. The hunger was there then. He seemed to have lost control and was grinding against her as he nipped at her sensitive neck gently, dragging his clawed hands along her helplessly arcing figure beneath him. He backed his hips off of her a moment, giving her a chance to adjust herself to be more comfortably accessed.

Then he slid in, gently. The warmth of his stiff member filled her comfortably. She made an involuntary noise, the looked up at Bog worriedly. His face was close to hers, his heated icy-blue eyes unfocused completely, a scowl of concentration furrowing his leafy brow. Everything tensed his pauldrons split a bit, stretching, even his wings stiffened. He was holding himself up by an elbow resting near her head, his hand gripping their sheets of soft moss. She reached up to his face, one hand touching his heated cheek, the other against his fleshy, soft neck. She felt him swallow and he focused on her a moment just before bending down to meet her lips.

The rhythm of his movement started with a slow pace, the heat in both of their cores only continuously increasing. His pace in hips increased with his fever, and his other hand pulled one of her legs up and over his hip. She hiked the other one up and he somehow went deeper. They both moaned at this angle.

“Bog,” she muttered into his lips. He pulled his face away to look her in the eyes. She cupped his other cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marianne,” he said breathlessly, his hand leaving her leg to caress her cheek. He pressed his forehead against hers and they both closed their eyes.

He stopped his rhythm and began to do something completely new. Pushing in on her as deep as he could go, pressing against her sensitive area, he started to grind against her.

She let out a noise that sounded somewhat like a moan as she lost herself, nearly blacking out as her body tensed against him. Bog bared his teeth and growled loudly in response just before his heated climax joined hers.

Then they collapsed together. His body was heavy over hers. Almost too heavy. She unlocked her legs from around him, her toes tingling pleasantly. He moved gently, lifting himself off her and moved to his side of the bed, curling forward and only resting his head down.

He had to wait to lay down until his throbbing length returned to its place. In time, as his breathing slowed, he straightened out to lay down. His wings vibrating pleasantly.

She tapped his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to look at her with such adoring eyes, her already melted heart melted again. He offered his hand to her, and she took it.

“We both won,” Marianne whispered to him, interlacing her fingers between his.


End file.
